THIS CHAPTER IS NOT CANON TO THE STORY!  

***Please verify identification code for armory authorization

“Really 73, you are seriously going to make me do this?  Freaking AI.”  All I could do was sigh as the damn computer wouldn't let me arm myself otherwise.  “Gunnery Sergeant Alex Randwulf.  Now unlock the armory 73.”

***Identity confirmed.  Armory panels unlocked.

***Current conditions advise stealth encounters with lethal force only as final alternative.

***Recommended weapons are available in locker 18A.  See contents below:

***M87 pistol: Integrally suppressed .45ACP 11 rd capacity.  Lethal rounds only available at this time

***R38 rifle: Standard issue accelerator rifle. 30 rd capacity.  Lethal and non lethal rounds available.

***G21 concussion/flash grenade

“Now we are talking my kind of toys.  73, run a final check on all armor systems, specifically focused on the camouflage and optical systems.”

With that, I stepped out of the cradle that had supported me for the last while, my feet coming to a rest on the ground for the first time in forever.  It felt strange, like coming home after being away for years.  Before I could get lost in thought, the open panels in the armory beckoned to me, teasing with their contents.  Small clicks filled the air as the contents of the locker were methodically locked onto my armor.  Left hip and thigh had magazine carriers rock into place as a familiar weight settled over my body.  More magazines and a grenade pouch adorned my chest plate as I pulled a combat load forth.  Toolkit on the small of my back and balanced.  Finally time for the main course.

“I've missed you,” I whispered to the duo of firearms that had saved my hide more times than I could count.  Even hundreds of years after its creation, the familiar pattern of the 1911 was still in service with the military.  Largely ineffective against modern armor, it still made a great weapon for quietly dispatching a guard or breaking things quietly from afar.   A soft click echoed in the dimly lit room as I pushed a battered magazine into the old pistol and pulled the slide back.  After all these years, it still chambered a round like the day it was issued.

Lastly, was my constant companion, my rifle, my gun.  The R38.  By modern standards the aesthetic was nothing to look at, but it did what the rifle was designed for very well.  Unlike the newer model Gauss rifles, you could feed pretty much anything magnetic through this thing and kill stuff with it.  Lethal, non lethal, scrap metal, hell, even a fork once.  Yes, I shot a guy in the lung with a fucking fork.  Hell of a way to go, albeit kind of hilarious from the outside.  If only I had a soup spoon or melon baller.  The textured grip felt odd but ever so familiar through my gauntlets.  As I pushed a magazine into this machine of death incarnate, icons began to pop up on my heads up display.  Power remaining in the magazine based battery, remaining rounds, heat, targeting, and the everpresant pain in my ass plasma damage meter.  Downside to a weapon like this is it liked to eat itself and shoot bits at the enemy.  A small tradeoff if you ask me.

“73, anything else I should know?  Also, calling you 73 is getting kind of old.  I know you aren't the combat AI that usually interfaces with armor but you need a proper name.  Any ideas?”

***All systems are prepared for combat operations, including in suit weaponry, camouflage, and optical systems.

***If 73 is not a designation you desire, I would like to be called Seven.  To my knowledge, I am the last AI functioning and cannot be divided.  It is fitting.

All I could do was shrug.  If one of these things makes up its mind, there is no changing it.  “So, which way do I go to follow these “ponies?” Please tell me you mistranslated the last bit.  Calling a species “Ponies” is kind of retarded.”

***At last visual contact, tracked subjects were approximately 300 meters up the corridor to your right.  Please disengage suit lights and operate with IR units for stealth.  Traction on greaves has been optimized for hard foor.

Well, at least I know Seven knows what it's doing.  On the upside it couldn't read thoughts like the combat AI.  They helped a lot, but damn they got nosy.  “Kill the lights in the vault Seven.”  With a moment's pause the lights in the room flickered and died, the only remainder being cast by the buttons on assorted panels.  Barely a thought crossed my mind before my vision shifted to a field of gray, black and green.  A small bouncing light told me where my rifle was pointing without much effort.  Time to go hunting.

Several minutes later, I stalked down the darkened hall behind the ponies.  There was no real fear of being discovered so long as I was cautious.  Every so often I would pause as they stopped to take a break or have a small conversation.  The purple one called “Twilight Sparkle,” was always seeming to point out this or that and have some sort of conjecture about it.  Yes, it is a power outlet with networking connection.  No, I don't expect a freaking horse thing to understand what that is.  Don't lick it, you'll get a nasty surprise.

***Really Sergeant, joking about electrocution, especially considering what you have planned?  That is just dark.

Fuck, the little bastard could network with the nanites with my head.

***Yes, I can sir.  I am unsure of what my lineage has to do with anything.  Oh, you were insulting the software I descended from.  Very droll sergeant.

“Lets just get this over with so I can get you out of my head, okay?”  Damn I hope I thought that loud enough.

***While you were occupied the ponies took a turn to the left in approximately 15 meters.  They are outside the field of view of my cameras however.  Proceed with extreme caution.

With practiced grace, I inched toward the corner, placing my back gently against the concrete and steel wall.  A small twist spun the camera imbedded at the muzzle of the rifle 90 degrees left so I could attempt to look at what was ahead of me.

“SON OF A FUCKER!”

A blue bolt of energy whipped down the hallway, barely missing my outstretched rifle in the inky blackness.  Naturally, I pulled myself tight against the wall.  Unknown fire and all that.  I don't want to find out that my hard cover was just “cover” when I get a perforated spleen.

***Translating in real time via nanites.

“Rarity, what was THAT?!”

“I...I had a feeling we were being watched.  I'm sorry Twilight.  I shouldn't have acted so rashly.”

“Its okay Rares, I've had an unsettlin feeling myself since we left that strange room back there.”

“Now that you mention it girls, I thought I kept hearing hoof steps, but thought it could have been an echo.”

“Do you mean that...that...that thing could be in the dark here with us?”

“If it is, I'm sure we could kick it's flank.  Did you see how skinny it was?”

“We don't know if its hostile or even out there.  I'm pretty certain that the thing was dead.  Lets just get back to camp.  We can get a larger group tomorrow to search that area again.”

“Did you guys even listen to my tail?!  It twitched and twitchedatwitch.  That means we are going to have a new friend.  And the thing isn't really a thing after all.  Didn't you read the screens?  His name is Alex and he's standing right around the corner.  Rarity almost shot him.  I wonder if he likes cupcakes.  Or even better if he likes brownies!  Oooh!  I get to throw a party for a pony that nopony has ever seen before.  He has a strange name though.  Alex the hoooman.  Wonder if he's related to Gilda.  I hope not, she was a big meeniehead....”

“PINKIE!  WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE WAS AROUND THE CORNER?!”

“Exactly what I meant silly.  That corner we came around before we all started talking.  He's just leaning against the wall over there listening to us and freaking out.  Oooh, now he's wondering if something called a tazer can knock one of out so he can get away.”

I could only lean against the wall and wonder what the holy fuck was going on.  “Seven, any idea what is happening?  Am I hallucinating?”

***No sergeant.  You are not hallucinating.  That pink creature seems to know what you are thinking for some strange reason.

“Now he's talking to somepony named Seven.  YOUHOO!  MR ALEX!  WE AREN'T HALLUCINATIONS!”

The only thing hey heard after that was footsteps slamming against the floor faster and faster until they faded into the distance.

“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK!”